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Tale of the King of Blades
This tale begins in Th’n Bolak, Around which the undead flock. United by a common foe, Together down the road we go. It centers on a rag-tag group, Who came together like a well-made soup. First is Zenma, our wizard fair, Ever changing of face and hair. When the situation turned dire, He, or she, often turned to fire. Valkhad is our other maestro of magic, Of which the results were deadly and tragic. Acid is the name of his game, Many an enemy, and friend, his did maim. Bree is able to hide so well, That often where she goes, I cannot tell. Although she can’t pick a lock to save her life, She is very deadly with a knife. Next comes Silveron, the giver of marks, He pulls enemies to him on a lark. The foe just can’t seem to get away, Especially when he uses his step of the fey. Then there is the one- horned Asteron, No heavy armor doth he don. Surprisingly light of hoof, I have found him to be quiet and aloof. Finally comes our paladin of unpronounceable name, But a shorten version of Biff, he did claim. It is because of an oath he swore, That we took on this chore. In an attempt to escape the plague, We ventured into a dwarven cave. In return for food, drink, and a bed, They demanded the king of blades be dead. It was immediately understood, That our paladin of lawful good, Would take up such a task If those in need did but ask. So through the mines we went, Lost were we, since the paths were bent. Drak became our goblin guide, Staying with us to protect his hide. Two others joined us then, Claiming they’ve been with us from way back when. Krusk is a fighter long of tooth, Spends his time denying the truth. Lilliput is a bard like me, Small in stature, but sharped tongued is she. Finally as a party of ten We sought the bladed King’s den. Downward we were bound, Dispatching the undead that we found. Downward still we travelled, As reality slowly unraveled. Through the halls of blackest stone, Spirits wandered, lost and alone. Up was down and left was right, All very confusing in a fight. Once we could right and collect ourselves, Our way was blocked by creatures of rivets and welds. In a mighty battle, fraught with anguish and toil, Freely flowed the blood and oil. Rejoicing once we broke past, We realized our celebration had come to fast. For next we encountered a child of the king, A shiny and spiky female bladeling. Along with her she had a pet, Much attention it did get. Our fighters fought with the bladeling hand to hand, While our mages took a distant stand. She fought hard, we fought harder, Making her a bladed martyr. Into his throne room we pressed, The king of blades we addressed. With him was a maiden most fair, But behind her, there was a scare. Built of dreams, Fueled by screams, The creature stood. It meant no good. Biff, end of oath in sight, He started the massive fight. Asteron leapt ahead, And very nearly wound up dead. Krusk, in an attempt to save the maid, Realized a trap was laid. The maid was not of her own mind, But rather the creature moved her from behind. It beset him with a psychic spike, Making him realize things he did not like. Filled with an orcish rage, He fought like a beast freed from his cage. Before the rest of us could attack, We were accosted by a zombie pack. I did my best to hold them off, Daring not to breathe or cough. After a desperate plead, Zenma finally did concede. She or he lit a fire, In which countless waves did expire. Drak stayed behind to guard the door, Checking that they were really dead, just to be sure. With the zombies off my back, I was able to return to the attack. While we attacked the king and his drones, The maid sought to get Valkhad alone. “Come to me” she said, While she messed with everyone’s head. Turns out, he and it are of a different dimension, A tidbit Valkhad never did mention. Not recognizing her face, He sought to get away from her post haste. Zenma during this time, Got distracted by a rhythmic chime. The source were columns emitting an unearthly glow, Through which dark magiks must certainly flow. Their magic, she or he did sap, Learning how to strike at enemies with a zap. The maid’s frailty proved to be deceiving, Not reflecting the wounds she should be receiving. So instead we focused on the king, Allowing our blades to dance and sing. When the king fell down, The maiden and shadow were not to be found. Instead we saw a haunted Valkhad, Recent events leaving him stunned and awed. In front of him was a plie of dust, Surrounded by ground the color of rust. So Biff’s quest is now complete, With the king’s most sound defeat. But now we go up top, For a chance to heal and shop. The way down was fraught with trials, I wonder what’s to come in the uphill miles? And that is where I leave you my friends. Stick around to see how this story ends. Signing off is Gareth your half-orc poet, Who isn’t at all afraid to show it! --Gareth the Bard